


The Gilded Cage

by whilewewereyetsinners



Series: The Gilded Cage [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, But he doesn't like her or anything, Day 6: reluctant royalty, F/M, Fili and Sigrid would do anything for their younger siblings, Fili is so angry Sigrid is different now, Fígrid February, Gen, Nope nothing to see here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilewewereyetsinners/pseuds/whilewewereyetsinners
Summary: Fili had seen Sigrid twice since leaving her and her people on the shore of Lake-town five years earlier. Only twice, but he'd seen more than enough to know that she'd changed, and not for the better.





	1. the caged bird sings of freedom

o.o.o.o.o

_Erebor_

_The year 2946 of the Third Age_

_Fifth Annual Celebration of the Destruction of the Foul Worm Smaug and Commemoration of the Retaking of the Lonely Mountain_

o.o.o.o.o

Kili barged into Fili's room and stood just inside the doorway, nearly dancing from foot to foot. "Aren't you ready yet? Hurry up! We need to get downstairs!"

"You look like you need to use the necessary," Fili remarked sourly, fitting the last clasp to his braid. He stepped back from the mirror to ensure there was nothing about his appearance his mother would find fault with. Or his uncle. Or Balin or Dori or… bah. All this focus on appearance—he understood the importance of image, but sometimes he wished to be back in the Blue Mountains where no one cared to fuss at his hair or his clothing.

He cast appraising eyes over his brother and sighed irritably. "Come here, idiot." As he fixed Kili's carelessly secured braids he muttered, "Rushing downstairs isn't going to make the delegation from Mirkwood arrive any sooner. And if Uncle sees you acting this way…"

Kili's smile fell away and Fili mentally cursed the irrationality of both his brother's love and his uncle's hatred. "Are you even sure she's coming this year?"

The younger prince immediately brightened, whispering, "Nori smuggled a message to me this morning. The report from the perimeter outpost said she was one of Thranduil's guards."

Fili sighed again, remembering last year, when Tauriel sent word she was coming yet a last minute change by the elf king had left her in the Mirkwood. Kili had gotten blindingly drunk and it was only with the help of Bofur and the quick thinking of Nori that he'd been able to remove him from the hall before Thorin realized what was going on. Fili had spent the night holding his brother's head over a bucket and the following morning arguing desperately that no, it would not be better for everyone if he just left Erebor.

"That pretty princeling with her?"

Kili pulled a face. "Eh, probably. He's not that bad though."

Fili looked at his brother's hopeful face, wondering for the thousandth time if he was being unforgivably selfish in encouraging Kili to stay in Erebor.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was being selfish. It was the unforgivable part he was unsure of.

"I'll talk to Thorin again when the celebration is over, see if I can get him to see reason," Fili announced abruptly.

The weariness on Kili's face looked completely out of place. "Don't, brother. He won't change his mind, and nothing good is accomplished by pressing him. We can… we'll just continue as we have been. We'll have tonight and the next few days, and I'll be able to see her again in a few months."

Fili ground his teeth, pulling his brother roughly to him and pressing their foreheads together. "When I am king—"

"I know," Kili interrupted. "The first thing you do after plunking the crown on your head. I know." He lowered his voice. "I appreciate it. I do. Just… don't keep telling me. I don't… I don't want to ever have a reason to wish for Uncle…"

To wish for their uncle's death. Fili's stomach lurched. "I never meant… Kili, I'm sorry."

The younger prince pulled back, already restored to good humor. "No harm done, brother. Now let's go! My fair maiden approaches, and who knows? Maybe a fine lass will catch your eye."

Fili scoffed. "Not likely." He followed his brother out the door, grousing, "And if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times- I won't be _plunking_ the crown anywhere."

o.o.o.o.o

The first day was always relaxed. It was really the eve of the celebration, a day of arrivals. Tables and couches were scattered around the edges of the room, with ample supplies of food and drink laid out for everyone to enjoy as the guests arrived. The pomp and ceremony would begin on the morrow, after everyone had recovered from their journeys. The Company had a large table reserved for their sole use, and even five years after the Quest still tended to gravitate towards each other. They had a bond which they did not share with many others. They had answered their king's call when others had not.

Much to Kili's dismay, hours passed with no sign of the party from Mirkwood. He perked up at the sound of new arrivals approaching, only to slump back into his seat and reach for his mug when he saw it was only King Bard flanked by his two oldest children, the three of them surrounded by a bevy of councilmen and their wives. The human princess hadn't attended the Celebration before, and when he got a good look at her he nearly spit out his ale. "Well. Sigrid's… um… grown up."

"That's not… that's _Sigrid_?" Bofur sputtered. "The little girl who we stayed at her house?"

"No, the little one was Tilda," Kili reminded him helpfully. "Sigrid's the older one."

"I know that. I just meant she was… she was… not like _that_."

All eyes turned to watch the vision in cream silk as she smiled gently at her father. Her hair was intricately braided, curls brushing her cheeks and spilling down her back. Her gown flowed over her body like water, unrevealing yet still enticing. Fili scowled. She was beautiful. Too beautiful. Too perfect. Passionless and controlled.

He hated seeing what she had become.

Dwalin grunted disparagingly. "I don't know what you're all gaping at. She's not overly tall and her hair is pretty enough, I'll grant you, but she doesn't have a beard and she's skinny. Looks breakable, if you ask me."

"Well, nobody asked you, did they?" Ori retorted bravely. "We can look at her if we want."

Fili ignored the argument that broke out around the table and gestured at a server to bring another pitcher of ale.

If he planned to drink it all, that wasn't anyone's business but his own.

o.o.o.o.o

He'd seen her twice since leaving her and her people on the shore of Lake-town. Only twice, but he'd seen more than enough to know that she'd changed, and not for the better.

The first time was the second summer after the defeat of the dragon. She and her sister had been in a field outside of Dale, almost hidden in the tall grasses. She was wearing a blue-dyed linen gown with embroidery around the neckline, finer than the clothing she'd worn before, and her half-braided hair was pinned up around her head. Tilda had been working small colorful flowers into the braid, and given its somewhat lopsided appearance he suspected she was responsible for her sister's entire hairstyle. Sigrid was gently teasing her younger sister as he approached, and he had found the scene charming.

Until they saw him.

It was fine at first. Tilda had squealed and run up to him, jabbering away and asking him questions, then taking his hand and pulling him to where her sister now stood. Stood stiffly, her face pale and her hands tightly clasped before her. She had greeted him formally, using his title and not just his name, and had inclined her head the precise amount she should to show respect to him while still allowing for her own status.

He knew what the precise amount was due to the interminable lessons he and Kili had suffered through, learning the appropriate way to greet Men and Dwarves and Wizards and even Elves, and the greetings they should receive in return, all dependent on the other person's relative social status. It had been enough to drive him mad, and he probably would have done something regrettable if it hadn't been for Kili making a game of it.

Clearly, the same lessons had been inflicted on Sigrid. Other lessons as well, no doubt, and he supposed that was just part of becoming a princess (or a prince.) But the lessons hadn't changed him, had they? He didn't understand why they had changed her from the open, somewhat bossy girl she'd been into this stiff, cold creature.

He'd persevered through several minutes of stilted conversation only to give up and take his leave after she commented on the weather.

He didn't see her again for well over a year. Almost two years ago now. He had been attending a meeting at King Bard's home in Dale—not a palace as he knew some human kings had, but a grand enough place, he supposed. Sigrid had passed through the far end of the hall, clad in silk and lace, her curls subdued and gold glinting in her hair. There were flowers in her braid again but they were pale, almost colorless. She looked as beautiful and as emotionless as a glass doll.

He watched her now as she moved smoothly about the hall, his hall, a perfect smile on her perfect face, and wondered what had become of the practical, wide-eyed girl who had shoved her sister under a table and protected her from orcs with her own body.

 _You're not really being fair_ , a voice that sounded like Kili's proclaimed inside his head. _You've only spoken to her once in five years, and she was what? Sixteen? And think of her situation. At least we knew we would be princes if we retook Erebor—she became a lady and then a princess with no warning at all._

He shook his head and stared into the bottom of his mug, wondering exactly how much he'd had to drink. A voice that sounded like Kili's speaking reason inside his head? It must have been a lot.

"Ah, out of ale, laddie?" Balin asked genially. "Let me refill your mug."

"So how do they do it?" Bofur made a rude noise and Ori flushed to the tips of his ear. "Not that! I mean the betrothal! Does she choose who she's to marry, or her father, or I've read sometimes humans have tournaments! Do you think they'll have a tournament for her hand?"

"It could be interesting seeing that," Balin mused. "I wonder if we'd be invited."

"Who needs to be invited?" Nori scoffed. "We can just sneak in, no problem."

Under the uproar of Dori and Balin taking Nori to task, Fili leaned over and asked his brother, "What are we talking about?"

"Princess Sigrid," Kili replied easily. "Apparently, she's to be married."

Everything slowed and dimmed and kernel of rage ignited in his chest. He fought to keep it out of his voice as he objected, "She's too young, surely."

"Old enough by human standards. They're a short-lived race."

Balin turned his attention their way. "Aye, they are. And it's a honorable thing she's doing, lads. Dale is doing well, but is still rebuilding and is far from prosperous. Whoever she marries will be able to provide much in the way of resources."

Fili grunted and drained half his mug. Did she not place any value on herself at all? How many different ways was she going to give herself away?

"You all right, brother?" Kili asked quietly.

"Yes, fine," he replied dismissively. "Of course."

His brother's concerned expression didn't change, and it was with relief that Fili heard another group announced into the hall, this time that of Mirkwood. The instant Kili's attention was pulled away Fili glared across the room at Sigrid. Their eyes met briefly and he took savage pleasure in seeing her perfect composure crumble a bit around the edges, even though it was only for a moment.

Over the next half hour she drifted closer and closer to the door cut into the side of the hall, finally slipping unseen onto the balcony.

Almost unseen. Fili quaffed the rest of his ale, barely resisting the urge to slam his empty mug down on the table, and followed her out.

She was standing by the railing, the moonlight gleaming on her smooth skin and the twists of her hair, looking like a precious jewel of pearl and gold. Unattainable and infuriating.

He scowled at the back of her head and spat viciously, "I hate your hair."

She turned, her eyes flaring wide with shock and hurt, before all emotion was hidden away. "Prince Fili." She took a breath, her fingers clenched white on the stone railing the only sign of her disquiet. "Why?"

"All twists and braids and clasps wrapping around each other—it's like a cage. A beautiful cage with a dead metal flower on top."

She took a shaky breath. "That is…"

"What?" he demanded. "Unkind? Rude?"

"Appropriate," she finished quietly, taking the wind out of his sails. "Surprisingly appropriate."

He eyed her uncertainly.

"I don't understand why you're so angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you," he lied, since he didn't understand himself why he was so angry.

Sigrid laughed outright at that, though it wasn't a particularly happy sound. "Yes. You are. If you don't wish to speak of it then of course I will not press you, except to say that if I have offended you, it was unintentionally done."

He pointed at her. "That! That offends me! Why not press me? Why not demand to know why I'm acting like a savage?" He stalked closer to her and hissed, "The Sigrid in Lake-town, the Sigrid who told a bunch of grumpy dwarves to take their booted feet down off her clean table, _that_ Sigrid would press me."

"I don't have the luxury of being that Sigrid anymore," she proclaimed icily. "That Sigrid wouldn't survive, dealing with the councilmen and their wives and the tutors and—"

He waved a disparaging hand at her. "That Sigrid _didn't_ survive. She's long gone."

"Why do you even care?" she snapped.

He opened his mouth and shut it again, not sure he even wanted to know the answer to that question. He changed the subject instead. "I hear you're to marry. Should I congratulate you?"

She pulled her composure around her like a cloak, her face smoothing into vaguely interested impassivity. If it was anyone else he might have found it fascinating to watch. "If you like."

"Maybe I should wait until you actually know who it is you're marrying," he sneered.

Her eyes flashed fire. "I will do what my father needs me to do. There is nothing improper about marrying for alliance or to strengthen Dale."

"He shouldn't be asking this of you," Fili snapped, even though he knew his outrage was uncalled for. More often than not, this was the way of the world for those of high birth or high position. He himself, now that he was approaching ninety, had heard more than one grumble that he needed to be looking for a wife, and he suspected that Balin had begun compiling a list of suitable brides.

Female dwarves were few, and ones that would be thought appropriate for the heir of Erebor were even fewer. It would be a short list.

She shook her head. "It's not his fault. Da… Father has told me I needn't do this. He fought with the council when they suggested it. He said he wants me to be happy. He…" She shook her head again, her lips pressed together as though to keep words from spilling out.

Fili was quiet for a long moment, the coal of anger still burning hot in his chest. "You can still call him Da, you know." Her mouth quivered and twisted and he tried to stop talking, he really did, but the words flowed nastily on despite him. "The prim and proper perfect little princess act is wasted on me."

He watched in horror as she lost the battle for control.

She didn't cry the way she should. It wasn't pretty little tears sliding artistically and attractively down her cheeks. It was violence and despair, sobs shaking her entire body as though to wrench her apart and he couldn't bear it. He wrapped his arms around her—just to help her hold herself together and it was his fault she was crying—he had to try to help her he had to try. "I'm sorry," he said over and over, feeling useless and inadequate and guilty. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her tears were wet against the skin of his neck and her shaking breaths were hot, and soon he realized she was saying something too. "It won't be Tilda. Bain will have to marry for alliance, but he's a man and he'll be king. He'll be well. But not Tilda. It won't be Tilda. It won't. It _won't_."

He rocked her and shushed her, her braids coming undone between his fingers, a sickening twist in his stomach as he realized she was still the same Sigrid, the same girl protecting her sister with her body.

"I made them promise. It won't be Tilda," she hissed feverishly, her fingers knotted into the velvet and silk covering his back. "Tilda will be free."

 


	2. a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fili lets something happen and ends up more sorry than he could have imagined.

0o0o0o0

Fili knew he should wake her.

He hadn't been aware that she was falling asleep; it was only after she was soundly there, his arms around her and her hands still fisted into his tunic the only things keeping her upright, that he realized it.

When forced to tell the tale later he said it was because her breath hitched even in her sleep that he let her rest, but if he was honest with himself (which he wasn't) he would be forced to admit that he never truly considered waking her at all.

And so he carefully lifted her, marveling at her lightness (she was like mithril, he thought, deceptively fragile and ornamental) and carefully settled them on the bench.

The bench was set in a recess of the wall, deep in the shadow of the doorway. He leaned back into the corner and held her, part on his lap and part off so that her head could rest comfortably on his shoulder, his mind a determined blank as his fingers unconsciously destroyed her braids. He fell asleep with his fingers tangled in her hair and his cheek on her head. And even when the screaming woke him he didn't regret having let her sleep.

It wasn't until much later that he would be sorry.

0o0o0o0

The councilman's wife had every reason not to scream when she saw them.

Even had her oft-professed affection for her kingdom's eldest princess not sealed her lips, her assignation on the balcony with a councilman who was most assuredly _not_ her husband should have. One must assume that the sight before her, that of her princess (precious princess, she would insist, most precious princess) slumbering in the arms of a man worth more than a thousand times his weight in gold (and despite their height dwarves were quite heavy, or so she had heard) overcame any hesitation that she may have felt in destroying Sigrid's honor and reputation.

Despite the shushing noises of her lover, the Lady Gudrun opened her mouth and screamed.

0o0o0o0

When King Bard heard the screams his eyes immediately sought out his children. Bain he saw sitting at the large table with Tauriel, Kili, and others, but Sigrid… he made another desperate visual sweep of the room… Sigrid wasn't there.

He set off at a run towards the chilling sound, King Thorin a scant step behind him, and burst onto the balcony with sword in hand. Only to come to an abrupt stop at the scene before him: Crown Prince Fili, cheek slightly reddened, one hand holding Sigrid behind him and the other holding a long dagger threateningly close to Lady Gudrun's belly. And his Sigrid… eyes red, gown rumpled, hair half-undone and in disarray…

His sword was at the prince's throat before he was aware that he'd moved. There was cacophony around them, people screaming and shouting, Thorin bellowing for everyone to shut up and for the balcony to be cleared of the gawkers, but it wasn't so loud that he missed the complete disdain in the prince's voice.

"Oh, _now_ you defend her."

Bard blinked in confusion, and allowed Sigrid to shove his arm down until his sword pointed at the ground.

"Da, how could you?" his daughter hissed.

"What is going on?" Thorin demanded. "Who was screaming?"

"I was, your majesty," Lady Gudrun said in a quivering voice. "I came out here on the balcony for some air, and have never been so shocked…" She put her hand to her dramatically to her eyes. "The prince… and the princess… and then he… he tried to assault me…"

"What?!" Fili snapped.

"He did not!" Sigrid gasped. "How dare you?"

"Oh, your highness," the lady replied mournfully. "My poor girl. Have no fear, we shall make him marry you!"

Sigrid and Fili gaped, apparently beyond words, and Thorin glared, affronted. "Have you anything useful to say? I fear I still do not understand what it was that made you scream, or what led my nephew to 'assault' you." Disbelief was thick in his voice.

The crown prince regained the power of speech, saying hotly, "Make no mistake, madam, had I wanted to assault you—"

"Fili!" the dwarf king and human princess snapped in unison.

Dwalin snorted from his position guarding the doorway, and Thorin eyed her with some surprise. "Princess Sigrid. Perhaps you can explain what happened here?"

"Of course, your majesty. Prince Fili and I were…" her voice faltered as she realized how bad it sounded, "…were talking, and I fell asleep. I woke to Lady Gudrun screaming."

"Talking," Bard repeated flatly, a thread of menace in his voice.

Fili took a protective half-step in front of Sigrid. "Arguing, actually," he interjected belligerently. "I was being—"

"We had a misunderstanding," Sigrid interrupted. "That's all. We argued, and then I… when we stopped arguing, I fell asleep."

"As did I. And then this one," he gestured with a wide swing of his arm, "started screaming and startled us awake, and I instinctively drew a dagger to protect us."

Bard's eyes flicked between his councilman and Lady Gudrun. "Do either of you have anything to add?"

The lord maintained his silence, contenting himself with a mere shake of his head, but the lady gasped emotionally, and far too loudly, "He was holding her in his arms, your majesty, and his hand was in her hair!"

He shot Fili a hard look. "Yes, so I've gathered."

"Her reputation is destroyed! You must make them marry!"

Bard lost his hold on his temper. "Her reputation is destroyed because you screamed! This could have been handled discreetly, but no, you chose to make a spectacle of both yourself and my daughter!" The lady tried to interrupt, but he cut her off viciously. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Neither of you will speak on this matter to anyone, for any reason. If I find out that you have said a single word, you and your families will be banished until a year and a day from the date of your deaths." He glowered at them both. "Is that understood?"

The councilman bowed, the picture of calm. "Certainly, your majesty. You may depend upon my secrecy."

"But… may I not even tell my husband? He's on the council!"

Everyone stared at her incredulously.

Bard ironed his forehead with his fingertips. "No. You may not say anything. To anyone."

"But—"

"No!" he roared, sounding more like Thorin than himself. "If you suddenly feel a pressing need to be honest with your husband, I suggest you explain to him precisely why you were out here on the balcony at all!" He took a deep breath and finished icily, "Go inside. Unless you wish to tell your husband of your family's need to move, you will not speak of this to anyone." He transferred his gaze to the councilman. "Both of you go inside."

The councilman bowed calmly and the lady flounced angrily, and for a moment there was a blessed silence. Then Bard sighed, steeling himself for what he must do next. He met the eyes of the King Under the Mountain. "The wretched woman is right about one thing: these two must marry. There is no hope now of keeping this quiet."

Thorin was silent and the two kings stared implacably at each other, ignoring Sigrid's whispered protest. Finally, the dwarf king nodded. "Yes. There seems to be no other option. If it is acceptable to you, I suggest that my councilors and I will meet with you and yours tomorrow morning to discuss the contract, immediately following breakfast."

Bard inclined his head. "Perfectly acceptable." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Is there a way off this balcony that doesn't lead through the hall?"

Thorin chuckled humorlessly. "Yes, let us show you. I have as little desire to walk through the hall as you." He threw some rapid hand signals at Dwalin, telling him to find his brother and meet them in his office, and clamped an unnecessarily heavy hand on Fili's shoulder as he showed the humans the hidden way inside.

0o0o0o0

Fili gritted his teeth. Sigrid had completely withdrawn behind her perfect princess shield and had refused to meet his eyes when the two groups parted ways near the stairs. Bard had glared at him, clearly blaming him for the entire fiasco when they had done nothing wrong and it was not one of _Erebor_ who had screamed and drawn attention to them. And now his uncle was openly ignoring him, letting him stand before his desk like a naughty dwarfling.

After what seemed to Fili to be an unnecessarily long period of time, Dwalin and Balin arrived and though he was ignored as they discussed where Kili and Dis were and the rumors swirling around the mountain, he was at least permitted to sit with them.

Those topics exhausted, Thorin met Fili's eyes and finally deigned to speak to him. "How soon do we need to have the wedding?"

"What?" Fili asked, completely bewildered.

"Ah, I think your uncle is asking if there is a reason for haste?" Balin elaborated.

He stared at them, still uncomprehending.

Dwalin sighed irritably and demanded with his typical bluntness, "Is the lass pregnant?"

"What? No!" Fili cried. "Tonight's the first time I've seen her in almost two years!"

"So there's no chance at all she's pregnant then?" Dwalin pressed.

He leapt to his feet. "What, you think we… on the _balcony_? With all of you just inside? Are you mad?!"

"Sit down," his uncle ordered gruffly. He no longer looked so furious. "What were you thinking, picking a fight with the princess?"

"I didn't… well, I did, but I wasn't intending to." He rubbed the back of his neck and concluded uncomfortably, "I was just angry."

The other three dwarves gazed at him for a long moment before Balin, sounding confused, asked why.

Fili opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking, and Thorin snapped, "Everything. From the beginning."

So he told them everything, staring at his hands so he wouldn't have to look at them, feeling more like an imbecile with every word that left his mouth. When he was finished there was a heavy silence.

He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He was a Son of Durin, not a coward, and by Mahal he would act like it.

Thorin and Dwalin looked unhappily bewildered and Balin… Balin was smiling?

"Ah, laddie. It's good to know you feel some affection for her. Makes me feel better about this whole forced marriage arrangement."

Fili gaped at him, wondering what he'd said to lead Balin to such a faulty conclusion. Not that he disliked Sigrid. He'd always liked her, but he didn't feel anything… special. Did he?

Thorin shook his head impatiently. "Affection for a human- this is the kind of stunt I'd expect from your brother, not you. Not that there's any avoiding the marriage, when I've no doubt refusal would destroy our trade with Dale, if not our entire alliance. We may not need them as greatly as they need us, but I'd not like to risk enmity with our closest neighbor."

"Not to mention they help keep that pompous Mirkwood clotheshorse in check," Dwalin muttered balefully.

"Aye, and he'd be glad to take advantage of any discord between us. So, as I said, there's no avoiding it." Thorin's tone, while slightly regretful, was businesslike. "Balin, that list we spoke of last month. Is there anyone on it who would do for Kili?"

Balin nodded reluctantly. "I'm sure there are at least two possibilities."

It was the sorrow in Balin's voice more than their words that clued Fili in. "Wait, do for Kili for what? For marriage?"

"You needn't sound so surprised," his uncle replied dispassionately. "If you're to marry the human princess then your brother will have to father full-blooded heirs."

"Sigrid—her name is Sigrid—and no, he won't! You know he loves Tauriel!"

Thorin scoffed. "I know he spends time with her when she is here, but you can't seriously expect me to believe that he loves her. He hasn't even mentioned her in years."

"Maybe not to _you_! And why would that be? Oh, perhaps because the last time he did you threatened him with exile if he spoke her name to you again!"

The king's face was red and growing redder, but everyone saw the tiny flash of doubt cross it. "Be that as it may, no one of mixed blood may sit on the throne of Erebor."

"According to whom?" Fili demanded irately. "According to you? You're disinheriting my children before I've even fathered them?"

"According to the dwarrow who must agree to follow them." Thorin sounded more weary than angry. "The sooner you accept it, the better. It's just the way it is."

Fili clenched his jaw until it hurt, the pain grounding him and helping suspend him above the rage he wanted to fall into.

"No," he replied in a steely voice. "I will not accept it. There are few dwarrow today who will yet be alive when my son will take the throne; there is almost two centuries for opinion to change. We have strong alliances with other races now, alliances in which we are on an equal footing. And you know as well as I that mine will not be the first mixed marriage among our people."

"None of those marriages were well-received, or made by those of high birth," the king pointed out dampeningly.

"I realize that. But as I said, there is plenty of time for opinion to change. Dwarrow who grow up knowing my children and knowing that one of them will sit on the throne will be far more accepting than those to whom such a notion is foreign."

Balin looked hopeful, Dwalin looked skeptical, and Thorin shook his head. "It's not a risk we should take. Erebor's throne must stay with the direct line of Durin. And none of this has any bearing on your brother's marriage, for do you really think Durin will be reborn into a child of mixed blood? Even if your son is able to rule, there still must be full-blooded descendants in the line. And what does it matter? It's not as though he's able to marry the elf!" His uncle actually chuckled, as if Kili's love for Tauriel was a joke. As if Kili was a joke.

Balin flinched and even Dwalin tensed, waiting for the prince to explode, but Fili just stared, unable to believe the callous way his brother's happiness had been disregarded, as though it was nothing. As though none of their feelings mattered if they were inconvenient for the king. Thorin could be hard-headed and stubborn, a demanding teacher and a harsh taskmaster, but (except for the brief time he'd struggled with the gold sickness) Fili had never before doubted that he wanted what was best for them.

Mahal, what a debacle. In all his discussions with Kili about his impossible situation, it had never occurred to them that things could actually get so much worse. The worst they could imagine was that seeing Tauriel might become more difficult for one reason or another—never that Kili would be forced to marry someone else! Guilt fought for prominence in his brain as one thing became perfectly clear:

He should never have begged Kili to stay. If Kili had left last year as he wanted to and was already married, this insane discussion wouldn't be happening.

When he finally spoke it was with a quiet, icy civility that only served to increase Balin's and Dwalin's tension. "Forgive me, sire, I was unaware that our primary purpose was to be breeding stock for the line."

Thorin actually looked surprised. "Not your primary purpose, no, but surely you knew you'd need to produce heirs?"

Fili smiled widely, but it was little more than a baring of teeth. "Should I have? _You_ never did."

Balin tried to intercede but the prince ignored him, ignored the shocked anger on the king's face, ignored everything but the bone-deep rage and hurt. "We've followed you, uncle, and gladly. You are our king. But you have always led us. Never before have you demanded that we make sacrifices that _you_ are unwilling to make. If Kili is to be commanded to marry some poor female he does not love for the sole purpose of creating full-blooded heirs, I have only one thing to say: You. First."

He didn't wait for Thorin's reaction but stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

He somehow managed to avoid all the people still milling about—or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the milling throng took a look at his face and wisely chose to give him a wide berth. He was almost to the royal wing before he was intercepted.

"Prince Fili, a word?" For all that it was phrased as a question it was actually a demand, and they both knew it.

With great effort, he kept his tone civil. "I beg your pardon, but now is not a good time."

"I'll be brief, but this is important."

Fili met the gaze of Sigrid's father for a long, tense moment before inclining his head in reluctant acquiescence.

0o0o0o0

King Bard's eyes moved with ill-concealed curiosity around the outer chamber of Fili's private quarters. He'd encountered the prince several times a year since the death of the dragon. His personal experience with him and all he'd ever heard of him were to the good, but now that he was to be entrusted with Sigrid… He looked around, taking in the well-ordered room, the only sign of disarray the jumble of books and whetstones on the table close to the fire, searching for clues that Fili was a lesser man than he appeared to be.

Not that he was a man, precisely. A male, then. Bard resisted the renewed urge to punch something. Valar, what a debacle.

"Ale? Or something to eat?"

The prince's voice was polite enough, though the lines of his body made it plain he was still laboring under high emotion.

"Neither, thank you."

With an air almost of defiance, Fili poured himself a goblet of ale, then gestured to the chairs set before the hearth. "Shall we sit? Of what do you wish to speak?"

Bard took the indicated seat and stared into the fire, watching as a log cracked and a rush of sparks flew upwards. "Sigrid told me what happened this evening. I had not realized… Clearly, I've allowed her to bear burdens that she should not have had to bear, and I regret it more than I can say." He turned to Fili and said levelly, "I want your word that she will be protected if she marries you. Protected better than I have done over the past five years."

"You have some nerve," Fili retorted incredulously. "Do as I say, not as I do, is it?"

"I would change things if I could, but have little time left with her now," Bard said stiffly. "You may rest assured that I won't allow Tilda to be treated the same way, and I'll be keeping a sharper eye on the people who interact with Bain as well."

"Well, good, because that's what's important to her. She would sacrifice everything for them—was going to sacrifice everything!" Bard looked slightly confused, but said nothing as Fili continued hotly, "You don't need me to give my word. Sigrid will always be well-treated here, and will have all the honor and respect due her as my wife. There are vipers in any kingdom, but I know well who they are and she will not be abandoned to them."

The human king hid a wince at the accusation in the prince's words and nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you for your assurances. I know you will stand by them." He rose to take his leave, then paused by the door. "I also know neither of you want this marriage. Sigrid has assured me that she will put effort into making it successful, and I trust that you will do the same."

Fili nodded curtly, then sank numbly back into his seat, Bard's final words repeating over and over in his head.

_…neither of you want this marriage._

_…neither of you_

Sigrid didn't want to marry him. The realization was a burning hot pike in his gut, which was ridiculous, because of course she didn't want to. Nor did he, why would they?

But… how badly did she not want to? Was marriage to him as unwanted and horrible in her mind as the arranged possibilities she'd cried about on the balcony?

And then there was Kili, also threatened with a marriage he didn't want (because Fili didn't want this marriage either, of course he didn't) but in Kili's case it was worse.

Kili, who already loved so deeply and desperately, forced to marry someone else.

Kili, the royal stallion, put out to stud.

Kili, the little brother he'd vowed to always protect, betrayed into this mess by his own inaction.

It was now that he finally was sorry for letting Sigrid sleep.

He sat straighter and set his jaw. He would fix this. His own marriage may be unavoidable, but Kili's wasn't. There were no contracts, verbal or otherwise, yet made on his brother's behalf. There was still time. And he didn't want Sigrid to be miserable any more than he wanted Kili to be. His stomach lurched as he remembered her sobbing in his arms, the sacrifices she was willing to make for her sister. He didn't want her ever to cry like that over marrying him. He could make their marriage more palatable to her.

He stayed in the chair, his untouched ale growing warm beside him as he plotted, and waited for morning to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Bard/Sigrid headcanon, if you're interested: While Bard was intelligent and a natural leader he was not at all a political creature, and I think becoming first the Lord of Dale and then king would have been a difficult transition for him- all the more so because not only was he essentially having to rebuild his society from the ground up, but the decisions he made could literally mean the difference between life and death for his people and that was something he would take very, very seriously. He rose above all his challenges and succeeded because that's the kind of man he is, but I think he floundered a little at first. His council was stocked with some people who didn't see eye to eye with him, people who he didn't necessarily like or want on there, but who knew more about how to run a government than he did. He's found his feet now though, and his council will soon be getting some new members. As far as this chapter, he only knows that Sigrid was more upset about the prospect of an arranged marriage than he realized and has been unhappy about some other things in her life- he does not know that the council badgered Sigrid into acquiescing to the marriage or the ways in which she was pressured to act or not act in certain ways (the perfect princess pretense that Fili hates so much)- he thinks that she's just grown up and that it's natural for her to like beautiful gowns, etc, and he's so pleased to be able to provide them for her. Which leads to Sigrid- she is not completely blameless for the situation in which she's found herself. If she'd told her father about how uncomfortable she was with certain people or with the pressure being brought to bear on her she knew he would have put a stop to it. But ever since her mother died, Sigrid has seen herself as her father's helper. She helped raise her siblings, she took care of the house, she helped make ends meet- she never complained or caused problems or added to his burdens, and even after their situation changed so dramatically and he didn't need her to clean or cook she still tried to help him in the only way she could. She protected Tilda, acted as her father's hostess, resisted on her own the most egregious of the changes people wanted to make to her, and she didn't ever add to her father's stress by complaining to him. He, naturally, is not going to be too happy about that, though he will place most of the blame on himself (as, I think, he should.) Oh, and I'm not sure how old Sigrid was supposed to be in the movies but for the purposes of this story she was 14/15 when her father killed Smaug and is 19/20 now. Tilda was 8 and is now 13, and Bain was 11 and is now 16. Except for a few hours a day with his tutors, he's spent most of the past five years at his father's side- in some ways they've been learning together how to rule a kingdom- and due to that has been largely protected from the crap Sigrid's had to put up with. That's why she doesn't worry about him- he's rarely had to deal with any of the bad apples on his own the way she has.


	3. a bird that stalks down his narrow cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun is barely up, but Fili is already having a very bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long-- I'm still wrestling with the end of the fic so I decided to cut what I had in half so I could post something! Khuzdul and Sindarin translations should pop up if you hover your cursor over the words/phrases-- my thanks to hobbitystmarymorstan for telling me how to do it! Hover-text won't work on phones or tablets so translations are also in the end note. :)

0o0o0o0

It was barely morning when Fili left his rooms and slipped silently across the hallway into his brother’s. He was unsurprised to find him with Tauriel in his antechamber, curled up together in a nest of pillows and furs before the fire, both still in their fine attire from the night before. She lifted her head, so alert that he wondered how long she’d been awake ( _did elves even need sleep?_ he mused) and raised her brows inquiringly.

“I need to speak with him,” he told her simply, then found a chair that wasn’t piled with half-made arrows and averted his eyes while she ran a gentle hand over Kili’s face, murmuring to him to wake up.

She returned her solemn gaze to Fili. “You are well? We heard strange rumors last night, but no one who was likely to know truth would speak to Kili about them.”

“I am well enough,” he replied, surprised by her concern. “Or I will be. I have several things to rectify today.”

Kili blinked blearily, then sat bolt upright. “Fee! What happened last night?”

Fili laughed humorlessly and launched into the tale. He’d never been so frank with Tauriel before—in truth, he saw her so seldom he’d never really had the opportunity to be—but it wasn’t just Sigrid and Kili who were going to be impacted by his non-decision last night. It was Tauriel as well, and she deserved to hear it from him, even if seeing their reaction to the threat of Kili’s marriage—there it was, the agonizing pain in her eyes (he’d discovered several years ago that eyes were the way to see what elves were really thinking), the slack disbelief on Kili’s face and the desperate blind clutching of her hand— even if seeing their reaction hurt it didn’t matter. He had to give them this chance.

“You need to leave, Kili,” he concluded.

“But…” Kili’s voice was small and uncertain, like a child’s, and Fili’s anger at their uncle flared again. “But, he really wouldn’t do that to me, would he?”

“Before yesterday I would have said no. I would have said there was no way he would force you to act against your conscience.”

And that was the crux of it, really, the root of the betrayal— not that Kili was being made to marry in and of itself, but that he was being forced to behave dishonorably. Dwarves only loved once. Their hearts, once given, could not be reclaimed. Over the course of their exile it had become accepted that not every marriage would be a love match, that sometimes couples would wed more out of necessity than desire, but their culture still demanded that both parties enter into the marriage with free hearts so that love could grow between them. To marry while loving someone else was a deeply shameful act. It was a theft of something that rightfully belonged to the dwarf’s spouse.

And Kili was to bear this guilt, to be forced into this dishonor by the very dwarf who’d pounded into them that their birth, their attainments, their abilities, the wealth and position and power he hoped they’d one day have: if they lost their honor none of it mattered. That without their honor they were _nothing_.

Fili scrubbed his hands over his face and forced himself to focus. “I would have said no,” he reiterated. “But now? I think he will, Kee. He wasn’t in a rage or even angry, really, and even after I argued your love for Tauriel he still spoke of the need for it. It’s my fault you are in this position now, not only for letting Sigrid sleep last night and allowing for such an uproar, but for not letting you leave last year. I am more sorry than I can say.”

“He wanted to leave last year?” Tauriel interjected, surprised. Kili’s eyes widened and he made a shushing motion at his brother that ceased abruptly when she turned to look at him. “Mell nin, when was this?”

“I wouldn’t have really left,” he replied weakly. “I was just upset.”

“Hungover,” Fili coughed.

Kili made a rude gesture at him behind Tauriel’s back while conceding, “Yes, I was hungover.”

She raised an eyebrow, then her eyes widened. “This happened last year at this time, when I was left behind. You said only that you were disappointed, not that you were so distressed!”

“And what purpose would it have served to tell you that I got blindingly drunk, save to make you unhappy?” he asked gently. “ Âzyungelê, we have little enough happiness. I don’t wish to spend the time we have together speaking of the misery of being apart.” His gaze turned to Fili. “And you’re wrong, nadad. I was miserable and very aware of the burden I was placing on everyone who was helping us, but I was speaking wildly. I wouldn’t have really run away.”

Fili leaned over to grasp his brother’s forearm. “That may be so, but truly. Now you do need to leave. And frankly, I think Tauriel should as well.” His mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “Just in case Thranduil gets the notion of keeping her inside the Mirkwood for the next couple hundred years.”

The two exchanged a long glance. Fili couldn’t tell what they were thinking, but he could easily see that they were conflicted. Well, he wasn’t above begging. “Please. Brother, _please_. I need to know that you’re happy.”

Unexpectedly, it was Tauriel who replied. “And what of your happiness? Your marriage aside, would we not be leaving worse turmoil in our wake?”

He suddenly felt more weary than he’d ever been in his life. “It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Any upheaval will soon die down and something new will come along for everyone to gossip and gasp about.” He sighed and slumped back in his chair. “And as far as my marriage goes, I’m sure the princess and I will get along well enough.”

Kili smirked a little. “You always did like her.” He blithely disregarded Fili’s inarticulate noise of disagreement and told Tauriel, “You should have seen him when we first met her, back in Lake-town. We’d been in Bard’s house less than a half hour when Sigrid snapped at Dwalin about his boots, and Fili barely took his eyes off her the rest of the night.”

“About his boots?” Tauriel asked, a furrow between her brows.

“He started to put his feet up on the table,” Fili muttered. Kili’s smirk widened into a triumphant grin. “And I did not watch her all night. You were ill; you were probably delirious and imagined it.”

“I was dying, I wasn’t blind.” He ignored his companions’ flinches and continued, “The point is, I’m not as worried about your marriage as I would be if it were someone else. I don’t like that you’re being forced into it, but all told, it could be worse.”

His voice hardened. “What I am not at all comfortable with is leaving you here to bear the brunt of Thorin’s and the council’s outrage. For no matter how you try to dismiss it, nadad, you would not merely be dealing with the gossips if I left to marry Tauriel.”

“I _know_. I do.” His hands tightened into useless fists in his lap as he insisted, “ _I just don’t care_. You, Kili. You are more important than any of that.”

Kili was silent for a long, still moment, his face unnaturally stern, before saying evenly, “You’re important, too, you know.”

Fili forced a smile. “Of course I am. I’m the Crown Prince, aren’t I? Going to be king one day. And after I…” he couldn’t help saying, even though it had been less than a day since Kili asked him to stop. Tradition and public opinion be damned, _everything_ be damned, he was not keeping his brother away from him after he was crowned, even if Kili chose to marry an orc.

There were worse things than elves.

“I know,” his brother interrupted quietly, and sighed, sounding just as weary as Fili felt. “I know. Tauriel and I will discuss it, maybe see how today goes before we decide.”

“Promise me,” Fili demanded fiercely. “Promise me you will seriously consider it. You nearly died reclaiming this mountain; the Line does not need any more sacrifices from you.”

Kili’s mouth tightened, but he nodded.

Fili sagged in relief. “I should go get dressed.” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes as he got up. Mahal, his head ached. “I still have to deal with the council this morning before all the ceremonies begin.”

His brother rose and pressed their foreheads together. “Mahal tadnani astû, sanzigil tamkhihi astû, nadadel,” he murmured.

Fili grasped the back of Kili’s neck and held him close as his eyes stung and he tried desperately not to think what his life would be like without his little brother. “Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu, nadadith” he whispered, for the first time in his life speaking Khuzdul in front of a non-dwarf. What did it matter now? Mahal willing, she’d be his sister soon enough. “Gaubdûkhimâ gagin yâkùlib Mahal.”

0o0o0o0

He regained his rooms and sighed wearily, letting his head thump back against his closed door.

“Bakn galikh, inùdoy,” his mother said.

Fili didn’t jump or pull a weapon, but it was a near thing. “Bakn galikh, Amad,” he replied as steadily as he could.

Dis took a good look at him and the amusement slid from her face. “What is it? What don’t I know?”

He opened his mouth and shut it again, before asking warily, “What _do_ you know?”

She rolled her eyes, saying impatiently, “It’s worse than just the princess, isn’t it?”

He held back a scoff, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it, and dropped into a chair. “Isn’t that bad enough?”

She leveled what he and Kili had long ago dubbed The Stare of Doom on him. “Tell me, Fili, or I will be forced to go across the hall and ask your brother. I doubt he will appreciate me doing that while the elf is there.”

“You know about Tauriel?” he blurted out, then squeezed his eyes shut in regret. His mother was able to take him off guard faster and more easily than anyone else in Middle Earth.

She shook her head pityingly. “Oh, my son, do you not know me at all? Has there ever been a time when I didn’t know the important things in your lives? Of course I know about your brother’s beloved, and many more things besides.” She increased the intensity of The Stare and he fought the instinctive urge to shrink back. “You lads may not choose to discuss these things with me, but you may rest assured that _I know them_.”

Having delivered that unnerving bit of information to her wide-eyed firstborn, she settled back in her seat and said calmly, “Now. I met your princess last evening. I’ll not pretend that she is exactly what I’d wish for you, nor that I at all approve of _your_ behavior, but she’s intelligent and has a strength to her. I believe she’ll do well enough.”

He blinked and ignored her comment on his behavior to ask, “You mean she actually talked to you?”

His mother looked at him like he was a simpleton. “Of course she spoke to me. It’s not like she could avoid it when we were introduced, and she’s not shy, thank Mahal.”

“No, I mean _truly_ spoke to you? As herself? Without the…” he waved his hands around a little wildly, “the perfect princess act?”

“Oh. No, of course not.” Understanding dawned on her face. “You didn’t think that act is truly how she is?”

Fili suddenly found it very important to sort his pile of whetstones by size.

Dis sighed and commented a little sympathetically, “I forget sometimes that you’ve never seen me forced to put on such an act.”

His head snapped up. “You have never acted like that!”

“Not the same way Sigrid does, no. Dwarven ways are different than Mannish ones. But yes, inùdoy, I spent a good portion of my life playing a part.” Her eyes were distant. “I was only ten when the dragon came. I can barely remember my life as a princess in the mountain, but later… when I had a dead mother and a detached father and we were a wandering people with a mad king, it was incredibly important for me to behave perfectly. Your uncles as well, they couldn’t show any weaknesses and bring shame or inspire further doubt in our line, but they had much more freedom than I. I was cloistered and controlled as much as possible for a people continually on the move, and after we settled in Ered Luin it was worse. Thror was dead then,” her voice took on old-remembered pain, “as was Frerin. So many were dead. Thorin’s time was consumed with making the Halls habitable and in hiding Adad’s growing agitation, though I doubt he could have stopped what happened to me even if he hadn’t been so busy. I was hidden away, only put on display for feast days and ceremonies, and only if I acted the part.”

“So what changed?” he asked, fascinated. Except for telling stories of her brothers, his mother rarely spoke of the time before she met his father. She was such a force to be reckoned with now, it seemed impossible she’d once been so constrained.

“When I was about your age, my father disappeared,” she said simply. “Your uncle became the de facto King-in-exile of Durin’s Folk. Once he realized how unhappy I was he made many changes.”

That didn’t sound right. “Didn’t he already know? He’s your brother!”

A faint smile touched her face. “Fili, we weren’t like you and Kili. Not only is he fourteen years older than I, we hadn’t been permitted to speak alone for decades. There always was someone watching me— for my safety, according to Father and Grandfather.” Her smile morphed into a smirk.  “Thorin kicked the chaperones out the first time he came to visit me after becoming king, said if I wasn’t safe with him I wasn’t safe with anyone. It took time before I would speak freely to him—I had a lifetime of watching every word I said to overcome—but eventually we got there. And then everything changed. He had me take all my meals with him and sit in on council meetings—oh, some of the council members were so horrified the first time they saw me in there! He insisted that I be able to go wherever I wanted in the Halls, that I could make my own decisions about what I wanted to do with my days, and that as princess I should be a vital part of the community, not hidden away like lifeless treasure.”

Fili thought of the stuffier council members and nobility that he knew back in Ered Luin and grinned. “I can’t imagine that went over well with some folk.”

His mother laughed. “Oh, no, not at all. But you know your uncle: once he decided how things were going to be, that was that. There were some on the council who argued with him, claiming a concern for my safety, so the very next day he and Dwalin began training me in self-defense. ‘There,’ he told them. ‘You no longer need to fear for her safety. By the time we’re done, she’ll be capable of defending others, not only herself.’ Everyone stopped disputing with him after that. Other high-born wives and daughters were beginning to chafe against their own constraints— constraints made fashionable by my own former treatment— and I think the lords were afraid what would happen if he did anything else outrageous. Or what they saw as outrageous, at least! There was still grumbling, of course, but he didn’t care. ‘Damâm uru 'aban, Dis,’ he would tell me.” She quirked an eyebrow, studying his face. “That bothers you. Why?”

“I’m not so sure he has the same ‘family is more important’ outlook any longer, Amad,” Fili replied as evenly as he could.

She frowned as she tried to discern what he wasn’t saying. “Because of your betrothal? No, not because of that… you’re not terribly unhappy about that.”

“I’m not happy about it,” he retorted dryly. “Neither is she.”

“Which is more upsetting?” his mother wanted to know, temporarily diverted. “The marriage itself or that she’s unhappy about it?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, taken aback.

“Of course it does. You think about it, inùdoy.” She reached over to pat his hand. “You’ll figure it out. Now, back to your uncle… if it’s not your wedding…” She thought for a moment, her eyes on his face, then sucked in her breath. “He wouldn’t. Kili?”

Fili said emotionlessly, “The purity of the Line is of the utmost importance, and I will not be fathering full-blooded heirs.”

“You warned Kili, told him to leave,” she said, accusation tinging her voice.

He didn’t reply, his face stony, but the mixture of defiance and grief radiating from him told their own story.

She cursed beneath her breath and rose from her seat. “You are to meet your betrothed at the fountain near the council chamber after breakfast and take her for a walk. Don’t be late, and for Mahal’s sake, apologize to the girl for what you put her through last night!”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to speak to your uncle,” she said darkly. “And Fili? Next time something this disastrous happens? You had better tell me immediately!” She stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Fili sagged back in his chair and took a deep, deep drink of the previous night’s ale. “ _Mahal_ ,” he said feelingly.

He allowed himself to slump there for a moment, bowed under the weight of what was going on. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and got up to prepare for the day’s next battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin:  
> Mell nín – my beloved
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> nadad—brother  
> Âzyungelê – love of all loves  
> Mahal tadnani astû, sanzigil tamkhihi astû, nadadel – Mahal guide you and mithril find you, brother of brothers ("good luck" - often used as a farewell.)  
> Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu, nadadith – May Mahal's hammer shield you, little brother (safe travels)  
> Gaubdûkhimâ gagin yâkùlib Mahal – May we meet again with the grace of Mahal (Formal goodbye)  
> Bakn galikh - Good morning  
> inùdoy - son  
> Amad – Mother  
> Damâm uru 'aban – Blood over stone (Family is more important than anything)
> 
> Many thanks to the Dwarrow Scholar for his extensive Khuzdul resources!


	4. the free bird dares to claim the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili's day takes a definite (and unexpected) turn for the better.

 

He was going to be late to meet Sigrid. Not the best way to start things and he knew it, but there was no avoiding it. 

Fili watched the servant approach her with the message he’d sent, then took a deep breath and walked, without knocking or waiting for any sort of leave, into the council chamber. The back of his neck prickled with sweat. He’d never openly defied Thorin before, and while he knew everyone in the chamber turned to look at him his uncle’s raised eyebrows were all he could see. He swallowed, and spoke before he lost his nerve. 

“Greetings, your majesties, my lords.” He was pleased at the steadiness of his voice. “My apologies for intruding, but I thought it best to speak to you before the contracts are drawn up, as there are three things that must be included.” 

Thorin’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher. Balin asked stiffly over the murmuring in the room, “Do you not trust the council to protect your interests?” 

“I trust you to defend mine,” Fili replied evenly, pointedly leaving unsaid that he didn’t trust Dale’s to protect Sigrid’s. “In all except this: mine and Sigrid’s children will be heirs to the throne of Erebor.” He smiled thinly before continuing, “You can call it a demand of Dale if that makes things more palatable to you.” 

There was displeased muttering throughout the room, though the displeasure arose from different sources. A voice from Dale’s side of the table piped up angrily, “Of course they would be your heirs!”

Bard frowned at the King Under the Mountain as he concurred. “You may indeed call it a demand of Dale.” 

Fili gave a short nod. “Good. The other two points concern Princess Tilda.” 

Balin threw up his hands despairingly as shouts arose from Dale’s councilors. “What say do you think you have over that princess?” one cried furiously. 

“No say whatsoever,” he replied coolly. “She is no subject of Erebor. However, it is my understanding that Princess Sigrid, when called before the council to accede to demands that she marry for Dale’s benefit, was made a promise in return that her sister would be free to marry where she pleased.” With great effort he kept the sarcasm out of his tone. “I feel it would be best if that pledge was given in writing.” 

Bard slowly turned his head to look down the line of his councilors, some of whom quailed before incredulous fury in his gaze. “When, exactly, was my daughter called before the council?” 

“About a month ago?” one stammered. 

“You may recall that when your scheme was first mentioned I _told_ you—” 

Thorin cleared his throat. “King Bard, would you like a moment with your council? We will gladly withdraw.” 

Bard pressed his lips together, looking ready to spit nails, but demurred. “No, I thank you. Let us get this done.” 

“Very well. Crown Prince Fili, your final demand?” 

Fili faltered, unnerved that his uncle didn’t appear to be angry. Why wasn’t he angry? 

“Uh, just that Princess Sigrid has stood in place of a mother to her siblings, especially her sister. In light of that fact, Princess Tilda will be permitted to visit her sister here in Erebor for however lengthy a time she and her father deem fit, for up to one half of the year.” 

Thorin leaned back in his chair, regarding his nephew silently for a long moment. “I have no objection to any of your requests.” 

Fili’s eyes widened. 

His uncle looked faintly amused at his reaction and repeated, “To any of your requests. King Bard? Do you have any reservations?” 

The human king still looked angry, but shook his head easily enough. “I have no objections. On the contrary, I appreciate Prince Fili’s concern for the well-being of both my daughters.” He cast a hard look at his councilors and another, oddly, over the prince’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, your majesties.” Fili bowed to each of the kings, gave a general nod to the collected councilmembers, and spun on his heel. The pause in his stride when he saw Sigrid standing just inside the doorway was barely perceptible. “Princess Sigrid, good morning. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Shall we take our walk now?” 

She smiled at him, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Prince Fili. I would be delighted.”

 

0o0o0o0

 

They walked in silence through the gawking, murmuring crowds, bestowing a smile here and a nod there, the epitome of well-behaved, well-trained young royals. He steered them towards a balcony (a different one from last night; he’d had quite enough of that one!) and heaved a sigh of relief when they were on it and his guard and her maidservant were blocking the door. They could still be seen, but if they spoke quietly it would be private enough. 

Sigrid started giggling, and he had an uneasy feeling it was directed at him.  “What?” 

“You do it too, you know,” she replied, sounding torn between amused and smug. “The ‘perfect little princess act’. You’re rather good at it, too!” 

He pretended to be affronted. “Perfect little prince, thank you very much. I’ll leave the perfect little princess to you.” 

For a long, still moment they smiled at one another, before discomfort set in and Fili tore his gaze away, leaning his elbows on the railing and looking out towards Dale. 

“So…,” he asked conversationally, “how much of that did you hear?” 

“I saw you going in and slipped in right behind you,” she admitted sheepishly. “So, all of it?” 

“Ah.” 

She shifted, her eyes on her hands. “I… well, I hope you don’t mind. I just thought perhaps you had been called in, and I didn’t want our council to make any unwarranted demands of you.” 

“Did you think they would?” he asked, curious. He had little experience in dealing with Dale’s council, but the bit he had convinced him they functioned very differently from Erebor’s. 

She scoffed bitterly. “Unfortunately, I would put very little past them. I knew yours would protect your interests, and I don’t think my father would allow anything unfair to be put into the contract, but… Well, it seemed best to be safe.” 

He slanted a glance at her next to him, dressed again in finery that made her look fragile and ornamental. _Mithril_ , he thought, as he had the night before. _This woman is made of mithril._  

He had taken on the combined councils for her—he was very prepared to fight on his future wife’s behalf regardless of who she was, and frankly, it was the least he could do after the mess he’d caused.   

But somehow it overwhelmed him to know she was willing to do the same for him. 

They stood in silence, looking out over the green expanse that stretched between the Mountain and Dale. The land was so changed from the desolate waste it had been just five years before. Fili opened his mouth to comment on the obvious benefits a lack of dragon had on the scenery, when Sigrid suddenly blurted out, “I need to tell you something. It’s not fair that you go into this not knowing.” 

“Yes?” he asked cautiously, wondering what it could be that she thought wouldn’t be disclosed to him. He couldn’t believe it was something shameful—though she looked it, the way she was wringing her hands and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What is it?” 

“My grandmother—well, I thought she was my grandmother when I was small—then after she died, my father told me she wasn’t truly my grandmother at all.” 

She stopped and Fili frowned, bewildered. “Then…?” 

Sigrid took a deep breath. “She was actually my great-great-grandmother. My mother’s great-grandfather married a woman of the Dunedain.” Her voice sped up. “My mother died in childbed with Tilda, and my mother’s father and grandfather in a skirmish with orcs, and even my great-great-grandmother’s death was unexpected—she still seemed quite young, but she was always so sad and I think she was glad to go when illness finally took her—and of course the blood is diluted now so I won’t live nearly as long as she should have! But I know it’s not what you expected—Mannish lives are so short compared to Dwarves’ and I wouldn’t blame you if you were looking forward to remarrying and I’m so sor—” 

“Just…just stop for a minute,” he interrupted, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Just stop.” 

She pressed her lips together as though to forcibly keep the words inside. There were tears in her eyes, and anger surged in his belly as he realized fully what she was telling him. 

“Are you seriously standing there and _apologizing_ because you aren’t going to die soon enough?” His rising voice drew her maidservant’s narrow-eyed attention, and he lowered it, hissing, “Tell me that’s not what just happened here, Sigrid.” 

“This marriage isn’t what you want,” she told him, her head high, but her voice so small and defeated that it actually, physically hurt him somewhere deep inside his chest. 

Mahal, what was wrong with him? “I don’t know what I want,” he admitted snappishly, “but I do know that I don’t want you dead!” 

She frowned, just a tiny crease between her eyebrows. “I didn’t say that. I wasn’t intending to imply anything negative about you. I just thought you should know what to expect.” 

Fili sighed, all the anger leaving him, and wondered why his chest still hurt. Maybe he should go see Oin when the Celebration was over.  “Sigrid,” he replied lowly, his eyes intent on hers. “You’re going to be my wife. If I can grow old alongside you instead of being forced to watch you age and die while I’m still young—that is not something you should ever apologize for. _That_ , Sigrid, is a blessing.” 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

“I can honestly say that I hadn’t yet considered our relative lifespans,” he continued, thinking that it must be one of the _only_ things he hadn’t considered during his long night of plotting, “so I thank you for letting me know I needn’t worry about it.” 

“Oh,” she breathed. 

She looked off-balance with relief and surprise, and he couldn’t help asking, “Did you really think I would be unhappy about this?” What sort of brute did she think him, that she thought he anticipated the end of their marriage? 

“I…I didn’t think…not _unhappy_ ,” she faltered. “Not really. Just…well, disappointed, maybe? 

“Disappointed,” he repeated flatly, and tried not to wince. “You must think very little of me.” 

“No!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “Of course not. It’s just, you don’t…” her voice trailed off and she stared at her hands. 

He stared at them, too, because she was back to wringing them. “I don’t, what?” he asked, forcing his voice to be emotionless. 

She made a low, frustrated sound. “You don’t like me,” she said, sounding as though the words were being wrenched from her. “I don’t know why. But you can’t want to marry me.” 

Fili was speechless for a long moment, and was only brought out of his stupor by the realization she was retreating behind her impassive shields. “No, don’t,” he blurted out, and grabbed her hands in both of his. 

Her eyes flew to his face, startled. 

“Don’t do that. Just… Just listen. I don’t dislike you. I _don’t_ ,” he insisted, at her look of disbelief. “I didn’t understand, that’s all. When I saw you, the past few years, you seemed so changed from how you were when I first met you, so much…” He trailed off and made a face. “There’s really no other way to put it and I’m sorry, but so much _less_.” He felt her flinch more than saw it, and blundered helplessly on, “I know, I’m sorry. But I know I was wrong now! And really, it was none of my business even if I wasn’t, I had no right to judge you the way I did and I apologize—I don’t know why I reacted that way. I was really unfair to you.” He looked down at her hands in his, all too conscious of the softness of her skin under his callouses. “What I’m trying, rather inarticulately, to say is: I understand now. You’re still the same Sigrid. You just had to hide parts of yourself away.” 

He looked up to see she was staring at him with tear-bright eyes and continued earnestly, “Look. When we’re married… I want you to be happy. Last night, you were crying about having to marry for Dale—I don’t want you to ever cry about having to marry me. You don’t have to worry so much about Tilda’s future now, but whatever else I can do to make our marriage more acceptable to you, you just have to tell me and I’ll see it done.” 

“There’s nothing,” Sigrid replied faintly. “Thank you for what you did for Tilda; I’m so grateful.” 

Her eyes flicked to their hands and he realized he was stroking the backs of hers with his thumbs. It was nice. He decided not to stop, then countered with mock severity, “I’ll settle for grateful, just keep in mind that I’m aiming for happy here.” 

She breathed a surprised laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good.” He smiled at her. “And listen, I know this transition might be hard—although, really, I think you’re going to like living here better than in Dale—but I know you might feel like you need to put on the perfect little princess act, and that’s understandable.” He leaned a little closer. “Just don’t hide from me, alright?” 

“Yes, alright,” she agreed, then added drily, “I’m sure you’ll tell me if I slip into it without realizing.” 

He kissed her hand and smirked. “Yes.” 

“Bossy.” 

“Usually,” he admitted, and she laughed. 

“Me too,” she warned him cheerfully. “Or at least, Tilda and Bain think so.” 

“Ah well, we’ll manage.” Warmth curled inside him at the prospect, and he was surprised to realize it was pleasure. He’s _happy_ that he’s being forced to marry her. 

How very strange. 

Sigrid sobered, still studying his face. “I’m glad you’re not upset, but I still... I really am sorry about last night.” 

He scoffed, and asked lightly, “Shouldn’t I be saying that? I picked a fight, made you cry, and then didn’t wake you up. That sounds more like my fault than yours.” 

“Oh. Well then, yes. You should be the one saying that.” She blinked at him, oozing faux innocence. “Go ahead.” 

Fili snorted. “I don’t think I will.” 

“No?” 

“No.” He smiled at her. “I’m actually less and less sorry all the time.” 

Sigrid smiled back, her cheeks pink. “Me too.”

 

0o0o0o0

 

He was remembering her smiles and laughter later that day, as he stood on the dais and watched her, the picture of serene composure, seated in the front row between his mother and Bain. He mentally vowed to shake her out of that composure later, and she looked directly at him and raised a challenging eyebrow, as though she knew what he was thinking. 

Yes. _Definitely_ shaking her out of it later. 

Kili was a steady, familiar presence at his side, having skidded into his spot at the last moment with a hissed, “Everything’s fine—tell you later!” Tauriel was seated on the other side of his and Kili’s mother, between her and Prince Legolas—an arrangement Fili was beyond certain was _not_ the original plan—but his mother had a glint in her eye and a smile on her face that he knew from long experience boded ill for anyone who tried to gainsay her. 

So Kili apparently wasn’t going anywhere. Fili was torn between grinning maniacally and slouching in sheer relief. 

Neither was possible, of course. Instead, he stood solemnly (and ostensibly attentively) listening as Thorin and then King Bard spoke. 

He supposed Sigrid was right. He _is_ pretty good at the perfect little prince act. 

He bit back a grin and kept his face appropriately grave as King Bard spoke of the struggles to rebuild Dale, the alliance between Dale, Erebor, and the Greenwood, and the Generosity of Bilbo Baggins. 

They really needed to get Bilbo back here for one of these things. Fili wanted to see his expression when the Dalemen waxed rhapsodic about his Generosity. And he _really_ wanted to see it when Bilbo saw the larger-than-life statue of himself in Dale’s central plaza. 

 _Genteel horror_ , he mentally chortled. _That’s what it would be._  

Though Fili halfway thought it was the initial talk of the monument that had made Bilbo flee home in the first place, so they might have to go to the Shire and drag him back… 

King Bard’s speech wound down and Thorin began speaking of the upcoming strengthening of Erebor’s alliance with Dale. On cue, Fili moved toward the center of the dais as Sigrid gracefully rose to join him. When she drew close he winked at her and admired the rosiness of her blush. 

“Hi,” he said casually, raising her hand to his lips. 

“Hello, you scoundrel,” she replied calmly, and he was betrayed into a laugh. 

She looked smug at winning their impromptu contest, her father looked pleasantly bewildered, and Thorin just sighed longsufferingly before continuing more loudly over the rising din, “I therefore am pleased to announce the betrothal of my eldest sister-son, Crown Prince Fili, to Princess Sigrid, the Lady of Dale, eldest daughter of King Bard. May their union bind our kingdoms closer in peace and friendship, and may it be blessed.” 

“With children!” Kili coughed loudly. 

Fili and Sigrid, in unison, looked at him and rolled their eyes. 

Then looked at each other and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good grief, I am SO SORRY it's taken this long to update this! It's essentially finished now, but there will be a brief epilogue and then a couple of one-shots coming to tie up the loose ends. I took the idea of Sigrid having Dunedain blood from a Figrid story I read years ago, but it wasn't the story/author I thought it was and I couldn't find it again-- if it was your story/idea please let me know so I can credit you (and I really hope you don't mind that I used it!) I just really dislike the idea of Sigrid dying of old age when Fili is still in his prime, so made-up genealogies for the win! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed--if you have a moment, please leave a comment!


	5. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later...

 

0o0o0o0

Erebor

The year 2951 of the Third Age

Tenth Annual Celebration of the Destruction of the Foul Worm Smaug and Commemoration of the Retaking of the Lonely Mountain

0o0o0o0

 

 

Bilbo lowered his empty mug to the tabletop with just a bit too much force, grumbling, “Your ale is not nearly strong enough.” 

“I’ve _told_ you,” Bofur protested, “we have liquor if you want something stronger.” 

Bilbo pointed a scandalized finger at him. “Liquor! I may not be a respectable Hobbit, but I am not yet so unrespectable as to drink strong spirits! In public! And if your ale was stronger it wouldn’t even be necessary!” 

“But, if your ales are as strong as our liquor,” Ori piped up, looking genuinely confused, “then why does it matter if you drink it?” 

“You just hush, you and Bofur and Gloin, kidnapping me from my home—” 

“Oi!” Gimli protested. “My dad would never—” 

“You too, young Gimli! Stealing me away, and then I’m not here a month before you all are forcing me to see that abomination in Dale! And you supposed to be my friends!” 

“He complaining about the statue again?” Fili asked as he joined them all at the Company table. He shoved a helplessly laughing Kili closer to his new wife to make room for himself on their bench.

“What makes you think he ever stopped?” Tauriel asked drily.

 Bilbo huffed in outrage, then snatched Fili’s mug of ale right out of his hands and downed it. 

“Hey!” 

“We should just get him his own keg,” Bofur suggested merrily while sliding his own mug out of reach. 

Kili keened into the tabletop and Tauriel patted his head. 

“There is not enough ale in this mountain to get me drunk enough to forget that monstrosity,” Bilbo snapped. 

“Then why bother stealing mine?!” Fili gestured to a server for more. 

“Because _your wife_ told me this trip was your idea,” Bilbo growled, plucking the new mug from his hand. The server, straight-faced, handed Fili another, then unloaded the rest of the ales on his cart onto the table and escaped. 

“Good lad!” the Hobbit called after him. “Very sensible!” 

“We _all_ wanted you to come,” Fili protested. “And look! You’re making Uncle nervous!” 

They all looked and caught the King Under the Mountain glancing worriedly in their direction. 

“Oh.” Bilbo deflated, then rallied. “Still! You lot are supposed to be my friends! And you took me to see that... _thing_ without a word of warning! Laughing up your sleeves at me, the lot of you!” 

Dwalin dropped into the seat next to him and reached for one of the unclaimed ales. “Oh, stop your grousing; it’s not that bad. It’s just a statue.” 

Bilbo grabbed the front of his jerkin and pulled him close enough to hiss into his startled face, “IT IS THE SIZE OF BEORN!” He snatched Dwalin’s ale, downed it, and slammed the mug on the table. “I am a _Hobbit_! Why is it so large? Eru, _why_?!” 

Sigrid joined them during this rant, holding her small daughter and pulling a chair behind her, and squeezed in between Fili and Bilbo. Sigdis squealed and lunged from her mother’s arms to snuggle into her father’s. Sigrid said calmly into the snickers and guffaws, “Because, Master Baggins, that is how much we honor you.” 

Bilbo sputtered. 

“You should just be glad it’s not bigger, the way the Dalemen go on and on about your Generosity,” Balin said drily from the opposite side of the table. 

“Aye,” Bofur mused, his eyes dancing with mischief, “it should be taller than the entire city—” 

“And made of solid gold!” Kili interjected, lifting his head from the table. 

“And lit from within with torches!” added Ori. 

Bilbo’s face reddened and he looked torn between outrage and nausea. Sigdis squawked, “Bil!’ and climbed across her parents’ laps into his. She proceeded to babble a long stream of nonsense that concluded with another firm “Bil!” then patted his cheek consolingly and settled into his lap. 

Fili slid his arm around his amused wife’s waist and pulled her close to him, kissed the spot beneath her ear that always made her shiver, and murmured, “Hello, wife.” 

She slid retaliatory fingers up the inside of his leg under the table and replied placidly, “Hello, husband.” 

He tried to discreetly suck air into his lungs and she snickered at his arrested expression. “Do you still think you’re ever going to win?” she whispered. 

He stroked the small of her back and watched her eyes dilate. “But trying to win is so much fun.” 

“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Kili moaned. 

“Says one half of the disgusting newlyweds,” Dwalin pointed out drily. “You’ll notice I didn’t sit next to any of you.” 

Tauriel laughed and ran her fingers through her husband’s hair, deftly avoiding mussing his braids. “He has a point, mell nin.” 

“At least we’re only disgusting in private!” He paused as everyone started laughing. “Wait. I mean—you know what I mean!” 

His wife was grinning, but she rescued him, saying, “We should greet Legolas—and he may have brought wine that is more suited to your needs, Bilbo.” She pulled Kili away by the hand, laughing as Gimli decried the likelihood of Elvish wine being stronger than Dwarvish ale. 

Attention returned to Bilbo then, and he was teased about how it really was all his own doing—“Aye, if you didn’t want monuments made of yourself you should never have given your share of the treasure to Dale in the first place!” Bofur declared. 

“It’s your own fault, laddie!” agreed Gloin disapprovingly. 

“And just wait until tomorrow,” Nori added slyly, making some of them jump and wonder when he’d arrived at the table. “King Bard always has lots to say about you and your—” 

“Generosity!” most of the table said with him, in unison. 

Bilbo paled alarmingly. “ _What?_ ” 

“Oh, aye, King Bard is most grateful.” 

He turned hunted eyes to Sigrid, and she said frankly, but with a certain measure of sympathy, “All of Dale is very grateful, Bilbo, not just my father. And so should all of Erebor be, as a stronger Dale is a stronger ally.” 

Balin nodded in agreement. “Very true, though Erebor has much more reason to be grateful to Bilbo than just that.” 

“Yes, indeed,” Bofur concurred tauntingly, then added with wide eyes, “Why, I imagine our _own_ king will have things to say about our burglar during the ceremonies tomorrow.” 

Poor Bilbo looked as though he’d unexpectedly discovered he was being sent to the gallows. “I… well, that’s that. I’m going home.” 

Sigdis looked at Bilbo in alarm, then stood on his lap and pointed a tiny finger around the table, babbling incomprehensible chastisements. “My Bil!” she concluded, scowling. 

“Quite right, your highness,” Balin said, smiling beneficently at her. 

Sigrid rolled her eyes and leaned into her daughter’s line of sight. “Sigdis, you may not scold your elders.” 

Sigdis’ lip wobbled and she flung her arms around Bilbo’s neck. “My Bil?” 

Bilbo patted her back. “I’m not going home yet. Don’t worry. Here now, shall I tell you a story?” 

She brightened. “Tro?” 

“The trolls again?” Bilbo asked, amused, as a groan arose around the table. 

“Not the trolls! You make us sound like idiots!” someone objected. 

Bilbo shrugged complacently. “I tell the story exactly as it happened, so if you sound like idiots it’s not _my_ fault.” Sigdis glared at the complainers as he began, “We were camped for the night by a ruined farmhouse…” 

Sigrid leaned against Fili as the story continued, the other Dwarves disputing parts of it, but quietly so as not to distract Sigdis and draw her ire. Fili chuckled, murmuring into Sigrid’s ear, “Our daughter has the makings of a fine queen.” 

“Mmm,” she breathed. “She must get it from her father.” 

“No,” Fili replied lowly, “she gets it from her mother.” 

Sigrid turned her head and smiled at him. “She didn’t get that glare from me.” 

He chuckled again but didn’t dispute it. That was his glare, and Kili’s, their mother’s, their uncle’s… for all he knew, that glare went back to Durin himself. 

Bilbo said dramatically, “And there we were, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls!” 

Kili and Tauriel returned, him flourishing four bottles of wine and her hands full of glasses. “Oh, not the trolls again!” he complained. “Sigdis, why do you love this story so much?” 

“Para-sigh!” 

“The parasites? But that’s when Uncle Thorin kicked me! You don’t like that part, do you?” 

She nodded, giggling, and Bilbo smugly informed him, “You’re just in time, because that’s right where we are. So! I thought and thought, what could I do to distract the trolls and delay them until the sun came up?” 

“Para-sigh!” Sigdis cried again, and to her amusement Kili flopped down in exaggerated dismay, muttering under his breath. 

“That’s right. ‘Stop!’ I told them…” 

“Five years ago about this time, remember where we were?” Fili murmured into his wife’s ear. 

She breathed a laugh. “On that balcony, right over there.” 

“…and they all yelled and protested that they didn’t have parasites, and I despaired for a moment, I truly did. But then your Uncle Thorin _finally_ realized what I was doing, and kicked out to hush the others up--” 

“Kicked _me_!” Kili insisted. “Right in the side with his big, heavy boot! Sigdis, doesn’t that make you sad?” 

“No!” she chirped. Kili clutched at his heart and fell sideways into Tauriel, making Sigdis laugh hysterically. 

While everyone was distracted, Sigrid leaned over and kissed her husband. “Did you ever think back then, that our lives would be like this?” 

He laced his fingers through hers. “Never,” he said softly. “I never imagined how wonderful life could be.” 

Bilbo’s voice continued the story in the background, “And finally, _finally_ , the sun came up! And…” 

Sigrid kissed Fili again, uncaring this time if anyone was watching. “I love you.” 

He slid the fingers of his free hand under the intricately braided mass of her hair, pressed her forehead to his, and simply breathed her in. “As I love you.”

They leaned into each other, watching their daughter cheer the end of Bilbo’s tale and shriek with laughter as her Uncle Kili snatched her up to tickle her into agreement that Uncle Thorin’s Boot is a Terrible Weapon. As the afternoon wore into evening, Sigrid’s father and siblings joined them, and Dis, and Thorin, and even Legolas squeezed in with them, and vows were made to build a bigger table before the 11th Commemoration. Bard’s arrival (much to his bewilderment) made Bilbo pale and reach for the wine, and start muttering about all the places he could hide during the ceremonies on the morrow. Sigdis was passed around like a ball of squirmy mischief and egged on in ways that made Sigrid sigh in exasperation, and Fili wrapped his arm more tightly around his wife and wondered how it was possible to be so very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I've made this into a series and am planning two other short fics: one about the conversations Thorin had with various people in between infuriating Fili on the first night and being sensible at the council meeting the next morning, and a short Sigrid POV. If there's anything else you want to see, let me know and I'll see if the muse cooperates! 
> 
> Translations:  
> mell nin--my beloved

**Author's Note:**

> All chapter titles taken from "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. Hope you enjoyed-- if you have a moment, please let me know what you think!


End file.
